


a different hue

by choi_kimmy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Kinda Soft and Sad at the same time, Light Angst, Soulmates - Colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choi_kimmy/pseuds/choi_kimmy
Summary: "There will never come a day where he will forget the colours of Natasha’s eyes - they were every hue of the forest, gentle shades of green that reminded him of hope and home."Or in other words; The law of the universe. Soulmates. You begin to see colours the moment your soulmate is born; that was the first half of the equation. You lose sight of colours the moment your soulmate dies; that was the second half of the equation.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 52
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [a different hue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187370) by [jenny_pad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_pad/pseuds/jenny_pad)



> Based on @ncmadwidcw's tweet: "soulmate au where you lose your sight of colors the moment your soulmate dies, and as steve falls from the bridge in 2012 from fighting himself, he loses all his sight of colors cos that’s the same time nat jumped on vormir."
> 
> I know the idea of soulmates seeing colours is common, but what pulled me into writing this is Iya suggesting them losing colours if your soulmate died and whew the way this prompt pushed my writing muse out of hibernation, wow I just have an affinity for angst, huh. I also wanted to try something different with this fic so there are no dialogues in this oneshot, everything is descriptive.
> 
> Shoutout to Aly for your input and title suggestion <3 And hope you like this oneshot even if it's angst :') lemme know what you think!

Colours.

When Bucky asked him to describe how they looked like, Steve didn’t know how to answer him. He has never given them much thought, never pondered long on whether they added value to his life even though he was amongst the ones privileged enough to experience them since he was a child - he distinctly remembered experiencing colours midday when he was in school. He was confused, but didn't dwell on it too long. It wasn’t until days after that he realised seeing colours was not ordinary - it was extraordinary,  _ special _ . His mother told him while she carded her fingers through his short tresses, that since many years ago, the laws of the universe dictated the world to be black and white. Normalcy was seeing a colourless surrounding through one’s lenses, hazed and muted. 

But like all rules, there was an exception. The one cardinal method which allowed colours to be seen, for an individual to experience seeing a myriad of hues; when flowers were no longer just grey, when the sky was no longer just gloomy.

When your soulmate is born. 

He figured that since he had always been able to see them for as long as his memory permitted him to remember, that would mean that his soulmate was living in the same world, same time, breathing the same air like him. He didn't think it was all that surprising or special though, because many people could see colours, too. And even though he knew of this fact, Steve had no idea who his soulmate was supposed to be. The universe left no other hints, nothing else to indicate who he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. It was solely up to him to figure out who his soulmate was, even if it meant not having the slightest clue if he would be right with his choice. Like everyone else who could see colours, this was a gamble of fate, a coin toss hoping it would land on the surface you wished for.

He wondered for some time if his soulmate was Bucky. They did everything together, after all. Before anyone else came along, he was already there. Bucky was always there for him,  _ with _ him. His best friend, his confidant. But it wasn’t him - it couldn’t, because Bucky couldn’t see colours. His best friend would wake up each day hoping to finally share the view of yellow sunflowers, see the green of the meadow, take in the colours of the rainbow. But he never did, at least not until much,  _ much _ later in 1978.

Eventually, Steve found her. His first love, his soulmate. At least, he _thought_ he did. He wholeheartedly hoped for Peggy to be his soulmate. She was fierce and beautiful. She saw him before anyone else did, she saw him even when he was invisible, a muted voice. He loved her, and he didn’t think it would be possible for him to love anyone else. She _had_ to be his soulmate, right?

He did not have the opportunity to find out, because his duties came above everything else, and when it was time for him to lay his life down for the rest of the world, he did it without hesitation. With regrets, yes, but never in doubt. One life in exchange to save millions; a simple equation which he seized.

Before he went down, before everything faded into black, he thought to himself -  _ at least I got to experience colours.  _

Then Steve emerged into the twentieth century, dazed and awfully confused. The first thing he realised, and was genuinely surprised by, was the fact that he could still see colours. 70 years had gone by, but he still saw the world as how he did before he went into the Arctic. More vibrant, definitely, with the change in culture and fashion, the advancement of technology and science. But the flowers were still colourful, and his eyes were still blue mirroring the sky and the ocean. 

He became the leader of a team of superheroes called the Avengers. It was the only thing he knew how to do, what to do - another chance at normalcy. Not being a hero, but being someone who would do anything to protect others in need. In this new life, this new century, he made friends. People he would protect, people he could trust, people he knew had his back just like how he had theirs. 

He never thought about soulmates anymore. Not until Tony brought it up one evening during dinner with the rest of the Avengers, and he was sorely reminded of the life he had left behind. The chance to be with who he assumed to be his soulmate. Steve knew that Peggy was still alive, he’d gone to visit her whenever he can. But she’d moved on, and he didn’t think it was appropriate to think of her in that way anymore. He had lost his chance with her a long time ago, and that was that.

When Peggy passed, it took him a few days to realise that despite everything he had genuinely believed in before this - his world was  _ still  _ filled with hues from every colour in the spectrum. It wasn’t supposed to be that way - if one could see colours the day their soulmate is born, then one would lose that ability the day their soulmate dies. It was common knowledge, and with that understanding, the truth was finally out in the open, the universe finally giving him a second hint after all those years - Peggy  _ wasn’t _ his soulmate. 

It didn’t stun him that much, truth be told. Because false belief happens. A misunderstanding, a mistake of thinking someone to be your soulmate, but in reality they weren’t yours. They  _ never _ were meant to be. Steve knew of this fact, lived with one closely when he was just a little boy; his mother had married someone she thought was her soulmate, only to come to a realisation years down the road that he wasn’t. It happens.

Still, he couldn’t wrap his head around this fact. Because if he could still see colours, that would mean that his soulmate was still alive. And if his soulmate was still alive, they would at least be somewhere near his real age. It didn’t make sense, but like always, Steve didn’t dwell on it, believing that his time in finding for his soulmate had long passed. There were other pressing, more important matters for him to direct his fullest attention to, like saving Bucky, so he pushed that thought into the back of his mind and forget it ever existed. He was somewhat contented with his current life. He wasn’t going to look into the unknown for something more that he didn’t know of. 

Besides, there was at least one certainty in his life, one thing he was absolutely sure of. He may not know who his soulmate was, but he sure as hell knew who he loves, who he would protect for the rest of his life. With Her, it wasn’t just physical attraction. It would be so easy if it was just that, because she was no doubt  _ beautiful _ . The kind of beauty where men admired and women desired. But no. With Her, it was more of an insurmountable admiration and a deep connection he didn’t expect to share with. She had qualities of everyone he loved; she had Peggy’s fierceness and strength, Bucky’s loyalty and unwavering support. She became his trusted confidant easily, his best friend grounding him in this new century, teaching him how to open up his heart again, reminding him that before anyone else, he would always be Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn, first.

He loves Her. He was irrevocably and ardently in love with her - that was the absolute truth. He didn’t think she was his soulmate ordained by fate, because he’d read her files. He knew that she was born in 1984, but quite frankly, Steve didn’t care. His priority was never to find his soulmate after all; it was to find a place in this world. And he  _ had _ found it. He had found it in  _ Her _ . He had found it  _ with _ her standing by his side in every battle, every mission. He had found it in comfort and solace, when he held her in his arms, when he caressed her cheeks. When he finally kissed her, and everything felt perfectly  _ right.  _ The puzzles fitted, and everything felt like they finally made sense, that this was the moment he had waited his entire life for. It seemed that she felt the same, from the way her cheeks were flushed and heated, the way she was breaking into this smile that reached her eyes before she was kissing him again. 

She told him afterwards that she could see colours since the day she was born, alluding to the possibility that he might be her soulmate. He didn’t tell her that he had also seen colours from as early as his memory indicated. He thought that maybe if he didn’t say anything, he could just go along with what she believed in. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to do that, not when they were both so in love with each other.

And then the words stumbled out of her mouth gracefully, and his eyes widened in utter surprise. She confessed that she was enhanced, like him. That she had the red room serum coursing through her veins, and one of its effects was resistance to aging; she wasn’t really born in 1984, that was merely a cover, a lie to quash unwanted questions. Her true age, her actual birth year was -

_1928._ Her admittance came off as a whisper, soft and measured, her eyes gleaming. And as that number sunk into his head, as his heart began to pound at that realisation, everything clicked; he had found  _ her _ .

He was rendered a little bit breathless in awe and relief, in giddy happiness because Natasha Romanoff - his partner, his entire world, the love of his life - was his promise of  _ forever _ . This crazy fate in the direst kind. There was no need for him to search for his soulmate, because she had _ always _ occupied the space beside him. Through thick and thin, before they even thought of the possibility of being each other’s soulmates, she was already and  _ always _ there for him. Sincerely and unconditionally, with an underlying promise that she would never leave him. The shared love they had for each other, this cosmic reciprocity as clear as the day.

Even though he was able to experience colours for a long time now, he never truly appreciated them until she waltzed right into his life. With her, he saw a different hue each day, a painted world that was so much more vibrant than before, when he could already see them.

Colours. 

He knew how to describe them now. 

They were daily reminders of a life worth living, the signs of being alive, signs to  _ live _ . The spring in his steps, the smile gracing across his face. Colours went beyond just palettes of his paints, or the strokes of his paintbrush. They were Her laughter resonating in the air, a sound capable of tugging his heartstrings, voice akin to that of silver bells, sweet and calming. He didn’t appreciate colours that much until he met Her, until he spent years after years with Her and suddenly, green wasn’t just green, red wasn’t just red. 

Colours - they were the way his heart would flutter when he naturally found her gaze even though she was seated across the room, the way his heart would beat against his chest when she smiled at him. When he cradled her face in his hands, almost drowning in the forest of her green irises. When he shut his eyes expecting to see nothing but pitch darkness, but instead, he saw images of her flitting across his mind like snapshots, the red of her hair gleaming brightly under the sun.

He associated colours with Her. He saw red in her unwavering confidence and dedication for the greater good; orange in the warmth of her embrace, in her playful yet tender mannerisms; yellow in the gentleness of her bright, sincere smile. Green in the layers of her eyes, symbolising hope and security, an everlasting assurance that as long as she was always by his side, he would always be alright. He saw blue in her fierce loyalty and trust in him; purple in her intellect and the wittiness of her words. This shared life experience with her had coloured his entire existence, gave meaning to one simple word in the English dictionary. Colours  _ were _ Natasha. 

One second he was seeing colours - and all was right. 

Then the next, when he fell off the bridge in the fight with his past self, the vibrant hues in his line of sight began to fade away. Everything went by in slow motion just then, the sudden change jarring, rippling across every fibre of his being in a mask of confusion. He barely acknowledged the pain of his collision with the ground - the soreness from the impact was the last of his concerns. Distracted, Steve slowly took in his surroundings and everything began to cage around him - he saw muted colours of the walls around him, and when he glanced down to his own suit, remembering the blue, red and white colours, he saw only dull, monochromatic colours. Overwhelmed, he pushed himself up,, trying his hardest to remain calm even though his knees felt like gelatine and he was about to collapse at any time. He didn’t care that his compass had fallen off his pocket. He didn’t care that he could see his past self slowly regaining consciousness. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, heart hammering against his ribcage, blood gushing into his head, hands trembling with involuntary realisation over one, inevitable conclusion. 

The law of the universe. Soulmates. You begin to see colours the moment your soulmate is born; that was the first half of the equation. You lose sight of colours the moment your soulmate dies; that was the second half of the equation. 

He wanted to sink into the floor in that instance. He wanted to scream. His eyes began to sting with hot, angry tears clouding his vision. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so tight it was beginning to hurt. But no feeling of hurt could amount to pain he felt from the merciless ripping of his heart as it split down the middle into two irreparable pieces.

* * *

Colours.

They were supposed to be the universe’s way of promising a chance of a happily ever after. But he couldn’t see them anymore, because he had lost the very reason on how and why he could see colours.

For the first time, he finally understood what Bucky had lamented when they were teenagers. A world without colors was uninteresting,  _ boring _ . It felt like every corner was a dead end, of stepping into a room, grappling in the dark trying to search for light, only to realise there never was a window or a switch. There never was a chance to find for light. There never will be, anymore. He thought that the universe bestowed upon him a fate that was unfair. Cruel. When the sun had set and the night sky loomed above him, in the quietness of his room and the empty side of his bed, he thought of this; he had saved the world, but who was going to save him now?

Years could go by, and it would never not hurt. Now, he had to live life through a different hue again. The world around him would always be void of any colours; hollow, cold,  _ empty _ . Vibrant hues he used to witness were now dull monochromes. This was his world now. A desolate, lonely world without Natasha. 

Colours - he may not be able to see them anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to remember how they looked like. For one, he will never forget the red of her hair, the lush pink of her lips. There will never come a day where he will forget the colours of Natasha’s eyes - they were every hue of the forest, gentle shades of green that reminded him of hope and home. They were all engraved in his bones and carved in his heart, ingrained in his pool of memories spanning more than a decade, mixed with salty dews of longing and regrets. He wished they had more time together. If he had known that he would lose her this quickly, he would have hugged her tighter, kissed her more. He would have told her repeatedly how much she meant to him, how much he cherished and loved her. He would have assured her with a promise he intended to keep for the remaining days of his life, that no matter what happens, he would always remember them, he would always remember colours the way he saw them with her beside him and -

He would always remember her; Natasha Romanoff, his last love, his once in a lifetime, his soulmate. 

* * *

  
  


**THE END**

  
  



	2. natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He reminded her of the palette of sunrise, the mixture of majestic hues of yellow and orange, sometimes with wisps of purple and pink; the first break of light after the darkest hours, signifying hope that she believed was lost."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a Part 2 from Nat's POV since I posted the first part, but never had the time and inspiration to until today. So here we go!!!
> 
> I'm sorry in advance though, because this _will_ break your heart.

Colours.

Even though she could see them from the moment she was born, she didn’t have any opinion on what they could possibly symbolise; the Red Room had after all, instilled in her from a young and tender age that colours were meaningless. A distraction, at most. Ignoring the basis of colours and the purpose which the law of the universe had dictated, she was taught to, instead, use her ability to see colours as an added advantage in fulfilling her duty as an agent for the KGB. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Red, for the longest of time, had always been the colour of regret to her. It was the colour that started her path of being a ruthless, heartless assassin. The one colour she has seen more times than any average person would. It was the constant reminder of blood dripping on her ledger, the feeling of grievance etched within her heart.

That ever was the only interpretation Natasha had for the colour red. A colour she easily associated with guilt. Every other colour paled in comparison; she didn’t need to interpret the other hues in the spectrum because they were unnecessary and insignificant to her life. She had carried that mindset with her even after she had defected from the KGB and joined SHIELD, after starting a path akin to another new beginning. An attempt to right the wrongs she had made. 

She didn’t think about colours again, until she met Him, and all of a sudden blue wasn’t just blue, yellow wasn’t just yellow. It didn’t happen overnight, of course, but gradually over the course of all the time they’d spent together as partners for numerous SHIELD missions. She didn’t even realise the subtle shift in her perspective until it was too glaring for her to ignore. In him, she saw the clarity of white, a colour depicting a genuine, selfless person. The colour of purity of someone who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Even though the suspicion of him being her soulmate crossed her mind, the words remained passive, idle within her throat. It was easy to repress her feelings for Him - it was easy when she believed that she didn’t deserve love like how other people around her did. Reciprocity wasn’t something she had searched for ever since she realised she may have developed feelings for him, so she maintained her status as a friend and maybe even his confidant. She told herself, nothing more.

Her mind was set on that belief, but her heart had a different opinion altogether. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. She wasn't supposed to experience love, because love is for children. Love will not change the fact that she had led a painful past, one that she was still struggling to escape from.

It will not change the fact that someone as pure as Him did not deserve someone as tainted as her. He deserves someone better, someone without so much blood in their hands. With that perspective, she kept a safe distance from him, putting him at arm’s length even though she longed to embrace him, longed to card her fingers through his short tresses. She saw green for the first time when she defied her heart’s wishes and nudged him into the directions of many other women she knew were good enough for him, yet still wrong for him - because they couldn’t be his soulmate, not when _she_ already was _his_ . It was rather clear by then, when he told her that he could still see colours even after the death of his first love, Peggy Carter. But still, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and said nothing else. She told herself that she was content with just being his close friend, content to learn over time that he _did_ share the same feelings for her like she did him, when he would just hold her in his arms, when he would caress her cheeks and convey many unspoken words through his eyes. She readily believed that she didn’t need anything more, that this was _enough_. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Because the more she tried to push him away, to repress that feeling of affection she clearly has for him, the more she was overwhelmed by the pressing realisation that the love she had for him was like that of embers; undying, one that would not fade away even after the flames have gone out. 

This, she knew, was something he realised too. Because one fine evening, when they were the only ones in their hideout, he had pulled her towards him in one swift motion and pressed their lips together. That action igniting the fire she had tried to put out within her, unfurling across her stomach in an intensity that nearly knocked all the air out of her. That was all the confirmation she needed; that her partner, her confidant, the pinnacle of everything good in the world, was in fact, her soulmate. Captain America. Steve Rogers. _Her_ soulmate ordained by fate and the law of the universe.

She relished in the feeling of his hand pressed firmly against her lower back, relished in how careful, how gentle he was kissing her. Her shoulders loosen, all hesitation fading away in her mind, leaving nothing but thoughts of reciprocity, thoughts of how she wanted very much to return his feelings with hers. And that, she did - winding her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. 

When they broke apart, she decided there and then to tell him the truth. It was the moment where she realised that she didn’t want to run away from this anymore. She didn’t want to run away from a chance at happiness, so she decided to take it, finally confessing to him that she was born in 1928. His expression upon learning that she was his soulmate was telling enough, and she felt her heart steadying at how right this feels. This time, she was the one who initiated the kiss, one that he returned fervently. 

Colours.

With Him, she began to see red in a different light. The colour of sleepless nights filled with nightmares and cold sweats, with him, she began to see red as a colour of ardent love. A colour assuring her that she - unlike what she was led to believe - deserves forgiveness and happiness. He told her that he associated colours with her, that every hue in the spectrum was made more meaningful, more alive, because of her. She laughed and told him not to be a sap. 

But the truth was, she associated colours with him, too. The downpour of rain, depicting the early experiences of the life she had led in Russia, was placed at the back of her mind because of him. When the rain stopped, and grey clouds began to clear, she started to appreciate the seven colours blending together to form a rainbow - a sight truly breathtaking with him standing right beside her, as he always had. Even after she had lost everyone and everything she had cared for, even when she had nothing, she had him. That was truly, finally, enough for her.

So when she made the decision of courageous redemption, her final arc in this journey she labelled as inevitable, one last act of sacrifice to save the lives of millions of other people, she didn’t think she had any regrets. Being an Avenger meant a great deal to her, and she was adamant on seeing success at the end of the line. 

She was sorry, though. Sorry that she had to put him through this wave of heartbreak and grief. She hoped he would understand her decision, why she did what she did. She hoped he would be able to still find light in his life even after she was gone. She hoped he wouldn’t forget her, because she would never forget him. 

Her last few thoughts as she fell from the cliff had been this: He made her a better person, made her life bright and colourful. He filled her heart to the brim constantly, introducing different hues to her which she learned to appreciate day by day. He reminded her of the palette of sunrise, the mixture of majestic hues of yellow and orange, sometimes with wisps of purple and pink; the first break of light after the darkest hours, signifying hope that she believed was lost.

Steve Rogers, this worthy man with the brightest blue eyes, was her promise of forever. How did she get this lucky?

And even though she could not fulfil her promise of seeing him in a minute, even though her time with him had been shorter than she would have hoped for - she was grateful for every moment she had spent with him. When the days were good, even when the days _weren’t_ good. He still held her in his arms lovingly, patiently, grounding her to reality. She was grateful for this experience of sincere, true love, a chance of happiness she was once upon a time, too stubborn, too afraid to take. She was grateful that she had fallen in love with him, and that he had fallen in love with her too. 

Even when the world faded into monochromatic colours, even as she closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, she could still see him. She would _always_ see him, in beautiful, vibrant hues; the only way she would see Steve Rogers, her soulmate.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read something that isn't angst to heal your poor souls, do check out my latest celebrity au "in the pale moonlight"! Promise you it's lots of fluff and soft moments (for now at least, bahahah).


End file.
